


Casting On

by Cowardly Lion (Catsmeow)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Ficathon, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-16
Updated: 2009-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-04 11:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsmeow/pseuds/Cowardly%20Lion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a lazy Sunday morning and Sara's got something to say to Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casting On

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2009 Jack/Sara ficathon on LJ to the prompt "knitting booties". Originally written in May 2009.

Without looking at the clock, Jack knew it was five in the morning because alarm or not, he always woke up at five. Didn't matter if it was a weekend morning, or if he was on stand down, or if it was a morning like this which combined both. This was Saturday--no, Sunday--Sunday morning so there would be no alarm for Sara, either.

After three weeks of deployment in an intense situation with his team in Afghanistan, a lazy morning sleeping in with his wife was a little slice of heaven. The only thing better than the first glimpse of Hurlburt Field through the window of the transport plane was the sight of Sara's beautiful face when she had seen him at their door last night.

As he had walked into the house, she had come out of the kitchen and her face lit up with joy. She hurried toward him, dropping the dishtowel she had been holding onto the dining table along the way. With one foot, he kicked the door shut behind him as she flung herself into his arms.

Whenever he returned from deployment, their first time together was always full of passion and wild desperation as though they'd been apart for years instead of days or weeks. He could barely wait to hold her, to touch her, to bury his face in her neck and inhale the scent of her. It was the same for Sara. They could never get close enough fast enough and thank God for sturdy furniture because neither of them could wait long enough to make it to the bedroom. Later, after the first rush of urgent need had died down, there would be slow languid lovemaking. Their joining then would be as much about reconnection and reaffirmation as it was about pleasure. This homecoming had been no different.

Now, smiling at the memory of the night before, Jack rolled from his back onto his side. Spooning up behind Sara, he mirrored her position. She stirred a little as he tucked his knees behind hers and draped his arm over her waist, then she sighed deeply and relaxed back into sleep. He put his head on her pillow, enjoying the feeling of her long lean body, soft and warm against his, as he drifted off to sleep.

The next time he woke, Jack was alone. The sheets next to him were cold and he could smell coffee brewing. He used the john then pulled on boxers and a pair of jeans. Barefoot and shirtless, he strolled into the kitchen. There was a mug waiting for him on the counter next to the coffee pot. Through the window over the sink he could see Sara sitting outside on the patio.

Taking his coffee with him, he stopped in the living room long enough to light up a cigarette from the pack on top of the television. He inhaled deeply. Oh yeah, that was good. The first smoke of the day was always the best. He tucked the matchbook back down inside the pack then grabbed the pack in one hand and his mug in the other. With his hands full, it took him a moment of fumbling before he opened the sliding door to join Sara on the patio. The concrete was rough and cool on the soles of his feet. It was going to be muggy later but for now a light breeze kept the humidity down.

Sara was sitting in the chaise lounge, wearing shorts and a sweet little tank top, her long gorgeous legs stretched out in front of her. There was a mug on the small side table next to her chair and her craft bag was on the patio under the table. She looked over her shoulder as he came through the door.

The patio furniture was high quality, solid redwood, with matching cushions and umbrella. It was new, too--a matching set that replaced the second-hand assortment they'd scrounged up temporarily when they'd first been posted here. Temporarily had turned into one year then two then almost three before they finally got around to getting this set. It was new enough that looking at it still gave Jack a sense of satisfaction, as did the memory of the first moonless night when he and Sara had taken the chaise for a "test drive". He put his coffee and cigarettes on the big dining table.

Returning her smile, he said, "Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" There was hint of anticipation in Sara's voice.

Jack hadn't intended anything more than a funny greeting, but if she wanted a knock-knock joke, he was willing to play along. He thought quickly while Sara handed him the ashtray from her little table.

"Olive." He put the ashtray with the rest of his things and pulled a chair up to the dining table but didn't sit down yet.

Sara cocked her head to one side, intrigued. He could see her trying to figure out the pun. "Olive who?"

Going to the chaise, Jack leaned down to kiss her good morning. "Olive you." He grinned, pleased with his impromptu word play.

Sara tipped her head back and laughed. Jack swore her eyes twinkled though he would never say it out loud. Sounded too sappy. Too much like something from one of his mom's romance novels.

"Olive you, too," Sara said. "You big ham."

She put her hand on his face and kissed him gently. The love and affection in it made his heart ache in a good way and he tried to put just as much affection in his kiss to her. She went back to whatever she was doing and he took a seat at the table. They sat quietly, enjoying the cool morning together. They were in the shade now, but the temperature would climb with the sun. It was going to be a hot day. With his peripheral vision, he saw her pull a booklet from her craft bag. He sipped his coffee and lingered over his smoke as he took inventory of the yard around them.

The same bottle-brush bushes which attracted the hummingbirds and butterflies that Sara loved also drew in the wasps. He could see a new mud-dauber nest high up on the wall to the left and the beginning of a paper wasp nest under the eaves on the far right corner of the house. He'd take care of those right after breakfast. Later today, he'd mow the lawn.

He watched a small flock of egrets fly over the house, then a rustling in the mulch by the patio caught his attention. Two little lizards tussled for territory under the juniper bushes. After the smaller lizard turned tail and ran, its opponent displayed the red skin under its neck and did the jerky push ups that signaled victory. He watched the entire encounter, fascinated. Even after almost three years in the Florida panhandle, the native wildlife seemed exotic to Jack.

"Tch! Dammit." Sara muttered to herself, frowning.

The booklet was spread open in her lap, as if for reference, but the pages were covered up by a clump of pale green yarn.

"What's the matter, baby?"

"I'm trying something new and I can't understand the directions. I swear the pictures in here were done by nearsighted monkeys."

Sara shifted the things in her lap and he could see a pair of knitting needles in her hands. Jack had no doubt that she would be good at the craft, once she got the hang of it. She was skilled at sewing, quilting, embroidery, and a couple of other crafts he didn't even know the names of. She had always been good with her hands. Early in their marriage, he had shown her the basics of car maintenance so that she could take care of it if he happened to be deployed and she turned into a better mechanic than he was. She could even tune the engine and trouble shoot. She was one hell of woman.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Knit." She frowned at the uncooperative supplies. "I need one hand for each needle and one more hand for the yarn. Since I haven't got three hands, it's not going well."

Jack stubbed out his cigarette and walked over to the chaise where she sat. "Scoot forward."

He straddled the chaise, sitting behind her with a foot planted firmly on the concrete on each side of the chair. Reaching behind him, he adjusted the cushion with one hand. The soft jersey fabric of Sara's top tickled his chest hair as he wriggled closer to her. She smelled fresh and clean and the hair of her nape was still damp from her shower.

"I told you about the summer between my junior and senior years in high school, didn't I?" he asked.

"Yes, you broke your leg a week before school let out and spent the entire summer in a cast at your grandparent's cabin. Why?"

"Well, I couldn't go hiking or bike riding and Grandma Jean wouldn't let me out in the boat in case it tipped because she was afraid the cast would pull me under the water. I helped Grandpa Casey with some of the handyman stuff, but there wasn't much that needed doing. That left me with a lot of time on my hands."

"And?"

He took a big breath and let it out. "So, I read a lot and helped Grandma around the house."

"I know. You've told me that story more than once." She wiggled a bit, leaning back against him.

"Yeah, but I never really specified what I helped her with." He put his hands on Sara's, shifting the position of her fingers slightly to correct her grip. "Grandma Jean was a knitter."

It wasn't often that he could surprise Sara. She twisted around to look at him. Her eyebrows had risen up and her mouth had dropped open. "You took up knitting?"

"Not at first." That came out more defensively than he had intended so he made sure his next words were more neutral. "See, at first it was just helping her wind the skeins into balls of yarn and keeping her company while she worked." His hands illustrated the activity. "You know how I fidget. She gave me a pair of needles and said I might as well use my hands productively."

"Major O'Neill - fighter pilot, spec ops warrior, world class HALO jumper, expert marksman, and knitter extraordinaire," teased Sara. "Did you make anything?"

Jack kissed her on the temple. "Actually I did. I made my mom a scarf for Christmas. I made one for myself, too, but I told everyone that Grandma Jean made it for me. The last thing I wanted my friends to know was that I had done it. They'd have teased the hell out of me."

"Oh! That blue scarf? That's the one you made?"

"Yep."

He was actually very proud of the scarves he had made. More than once he had unraveled and re-worked entire sections to correct a mistake or a sloppy stitch. It was particularly important that his mother's scarf be as perfect as possible. His mom still had hers, too. It felt good to share the accomplishment with Sara.

"Okay, knit-wit. Show me how." Sara focused on the needles in her hands.

Covering her hands with his again, he said, "See that slipknot on the left needle? That's your first stitch so when you count how many you've got, remember to include that. Now, hold that needle in your left hand. Almost. Try using just the tips of your fingers. That's it. Now, let's add on to that row."

As he manipulated the needles with Sara's hands, the skill returned to him. Muscle memory lingered far longer than he realized. It had been years since he had thought about that summer. Back then, he'd been a teenager, bored out of his mind, desperate for anything to occupy himself. Only later, when he had matured, did he appreciate that summer for the time it had given him with his grandparents.

"I think I've got it." Sara added a few more stitches by herself. They were all identical. She had already mastered the art of keeping the tension steady on the yarn. "I still think that whoever drew the diagrams had never actually seen anyone knit. And they had their eyes closed when they drew them."

"What are you knitting, anyway?" Peeking over her shoulder, Jack tried to read the booklet. "It's May. We're in Florida. Gonna be a long time before we need sweaters again.

"Good thing I'm not making a sweater, then." She sounded smug, which wasn't usually like her.

Jack looked at the needles she was using. He couldn't remember specific sizes, but he did know those were small needles. The yarn didn't seem fine enough, but he guessed anyway. "Doilies?" he said doubtfully.

She shook her head, smiling at him with her lips pressed together as if holding in the answer through force of will. And there was that twinkle in her eyes again, tenfold.

"Okay. I give. Whatcha makin'?"

"Baby booties." She said it casually, off hand, which was at odds with her countenance.

"Baby booties?" he snorted. "Why would you--"

He had been so focused on how she said it that it took a moment for what she had said to sink in.

"Baby?" It felt as though his heart stopped for a moment and when it started again, it beat harder and faster. His hand slid under the tangle of yarn, his palm following the curve of her lower abdomen as though he would be able to feel it already, snug within her. "Do you mean it? Are you sure?"

She nodded, her cheeks plump with the biggest smile he had ever seen. "I didn't want to say anything until it was official. I went to the doctor while you were gone. I'm pregnant."

Sara sounded joyful and thrilled and ecstatic and excited and awestruck and everything else that he felt, too. Jack could tell his smile was as wide as hers was because his cheeks were hurting but he didn't care and he couldn't make himself not smile if he tried. He was going to be a dad. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl - it was his baby, their baby, and he loved it already.

"How long do we have- I mean how far along-"

"About ten weeks."

Rapidly, Jack did a needs assessment in his head. Convert the spare room into a nursery. Get a crib. Baby clothes. Notify the family. Plenty of time for all of that. Hospital bills could be covered from savings. Plus, in two months, he would have enough time in grade to be eligible for promotion to light colonel and the pay raise that came with it. This was going to be a huge change in their lives and he was looking forward to every minute of it.

"You're making a list, aren't you?" Sara leaned back against him, laughter in her voice.

He chuckled. "Can I help it if I've been trained to adapt quickly to changing situations?"

"That's my flyboy. Ready for anything." She put her knitting in her lap then patted his hand where it rested on her belly.

"I love you, Sara." Overcome by emotion, his throat closed up and his voice cracked.

"I love you, too." Her voice was a husky whisper, her eyes shiny with tears.

Jack was so damn happy, his heart felt as though it was expanding to fill up his chest. The last time he had felt like this, he had been watching this incredible woman walk down to the aisle to meet him on their wedding day.

His eyes were stinging and he thought he might cry so to lighten the mood a bit he said, "Hey, if it's a girl--"

Sara playfully poked him in the wrist with her thumb.

"We are not naming her Olive." Once again, she was a step ahead of him.

"Spoilsport."

His token protest was punctuated with a nuzzle to the back of her neck. He wrapped his arms around Sara, pulling her firmly against him, and resting his chin on her shoulder. He felt curiously light, as though he was made of air and might float away if he let go of her. Pressing his cheek against hers, he held her securely, gently rocking his wife and child. Jack had the whole world, everything he wanted, right here in his arms. Life could only get better.

Finis


End file.
